


Our Future As It Fast Unfurls

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all the worries that her new life in Storybrooke brings, Mulan is truly blessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Future As It Fast Unfurls

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as [Tell Me A Story The Way That Liars Do](http://archiveofourown.org/works/989478) but can be read as a standalone. Alternate canon version of what could have happened in Neverland and beyond.
> 
> Title is a lyric from the song 'Honor To Us All' from the Disney film _Mulan_.

 

 

  
“People are always trying to put everything in boxes,” Aurora told Henry in quiet confidence. “But really, most things stretch.”

 

  
Henry looked thoughtful for a moment. “Like gum.”

 

  
“Exactly, like gum.”

 

  
*

 

  
Mulan smiled, at the sensation of Neal’s stubbled jaw at her hip, at the feel of Aurora’s fingers trailing down her chest, at Philip’s murmurs. This was so much like a dream. But then Aurora kissed her sweetly with eyes full of affection and there was Philip, her friend, the secret that she had always believed impossible. This was no dream.

 

  
Mulan would never have conjured up such an occurrence, not even during her most feverish nights. This was truly a blessing.

 

  
*

 

  
“Is Mulan your girlfriend?”

 

  
Mulan’s whetstone paused in its work. Neal and Henry were sat a little way off at a picnic table, sandwiches and wooden swords sharing the space between them. Mulan felt Neal’s gaze trickle over to her, perhaps judging whether she could hear the conversation or not. Mulan stared down at her sword, as though it held all of her attention. They had known this day would come and Neal had sworn that he would be honest with his son.

 

  
“She is. You okay with that?”

 

  
It was Henry’s turn to look over at Mulan before his gaze returned to his father. Mulan’s heart thumped quickly beneath her armour. Her hands were steady in their work.

 

  
“She’s really good with a sword,” Henry decreed. “Mom says Mulan knows what she’s doing.”

 

  
Mulan was unsure whether to agree with such a statement. She had always known her desires, but the right choice was always in question. Philip’s cause – to seek out Aurora – had been a foolish hope, but Mulan had been caught by his determination and by the depth of his feelings. She had assumed that such things would never be directed towards her, and she had wanted him to be happy. Had it been the correct choice? It had been a painful journey, but the destination had proved worthy.

 

  
“Good to know,” Neal sounded amused. “Thanks, buddy.”

 

  
There was silence for a while as father and son ate, but then Henry spoke up again, simple and straightforward. Mulan approved of that, Henry wasn’t afraid to ask questions or speak the truth. If you did not ask, how did you learn?

 

  
“Aurora and Philip are nice too.”

 

  
It wasn’t a question and Mulan half-turned to catch sight of Henry’s smile and Neal’s complicated surprise. She felt as though she was holding her breath, her hands still.

 

  
At last Neal nodded slowly. “They are.”

 

  
He didn’t thank Henry but Henry’s smile grew as he grabbed the last candy bar and Neal’s shoulders relaxed gradually. Aurora often said that Henry was smart; after all, he’d seen the truth of this world before anybody else. She was right.

 

  
When Mulan dropped her gaze, something prickled at the back of her neck - somebody was watching her. She slid a hand to her sword’s handle and glanced around the park. But it wasn’t Rumplestiltskin for once, or Hook. Henry was smiling at her, his head bobbing in a nod. Something shifted inside Mulan and she nodded back. As Neal beckoned her over, his smile was warm, it lifted away the worry he usually carried.

 

  
Mulan got to her feet, sliding her sword into its scabbard. She pressed the whetstone into a pocket and let her fingers stay close to the hilt of a hidden knife. This world was different to the Enchanted Forest, but it was not safe. It was the reason for Neal’s smiles and for his worries. Mulan would gladly bear both.

 

  
*

 

  
Aurora kissed her forehead and ran fond fingers through Mulan’s hair. Mulan smiled in return, few others caused her smiles so easily. The princess was so good-natured and genuine in her warmth and openness. It was dangerous for Aurora to be so trusting, but whilst she did take care, she still refused to treat people suspiciously.

 

  
“A kind word can disarm as well as a weapon,” she was fond of saying.

 

  
But she was learning how to use a blade too. Philip and Mulan taught her daily, running her through drills, encouraging and correcting. Aurora sometimes became frustrated but she never missed a lesson. It gave Mulan a quiet sort of joy, seeing Aurora strengthen physically and hone a skill once unknown to her.

 

  
Mulan rested her head on Aurora’s chest. She was stripped of her armour; both she and Aurora were without barriers, exploring warm welcoming skin with reverent hands. There was a scar from Neverland, there were the freckles that the sun always marked Aurora with, there were stories to be found in every curve and sharpness of bone. Mulan was allowed to learn them all; a privilege that always humbled her.

 

  
She kissed soft skin and stroked fingers across ribs more used to corsets and silk finery. Aurora was always beautiful, regardless of wrappings.

 

  
Aurora’s hands moved gently across Mulan’s body with a familiar, yet still unbelievable, awe. It stole Mulan’s breath away, Aurora sought to replace it.

 

  
*

 

  
Henry liked practising swordwork with his father, and with Philip and Mulan. He talked about practising with Hook too, but Hook’s name always made Neal’s lips press into a thin unhappy line. Mulan and Philip had worked together for years and it showed as they guided Henry through stances and hand grips. He was eager to learn and didn’t appear to mind repeating the same exercises over and over again. That was a good sign.

 

  
Mulan liked to watch Philip with Henry; he did not treat Henry like a child but instead showed a degree of gentle care and easy equal friendship that Henry responded to. Mulan had not seen Philip interact with someone so young before, he was going to be a good father one day.

 

  
To spar with Philip, Henry cheering nearby, always brought her peace. She knew his movements, she knew what each shift of his feet meant and the many telling ways that his fingers moved on a blade’s hilt. There was the sing of steel and Mulan whirled across the grass. Philip was smiling at her as he moved, it was distracting.

 

  
Of all the new shades that her life was now filled with, the additional warmth in Philip’s eyes when he looked at her was something that she dearly treasured.

 

  
*

 

  
Mulan didn’t like the way that Rumplestiltskin watched them. His expression was dangerous, he appeared benign, even content, but his fingers clenched on his cane and his eyes were calculating. Mulan saw love in him when he was with Belle and when he talked to Neal, but there was also guilt and yearning. There was a father, desperate to be part of his son’s life, at all costs.

 

  
“He’s trying,” Belle told her, offering a piece of cake. “He loves Baelfire, that hasn’t changed.”

 

  
Mulan had heard about Rumplestiltskin and his son, about how they had been separated and how Hook had cut them both deeply. Neal had forgiven his father much, but even healed wounds left scars. Forgive and forget were two very different things.

 

  
She could feel Rumplestiltskin watching, weighing and measuring her. She occasionally looked back, she had fought monsters and men, she had been gifted in abundance. She was armed, and she was not afraid.

 

  
“He’s my papa,” Neal said, cruel memories carving painful lines across his expression. “But I can’t totally trust him.”

 

  
Neal was silent after that, his head resting against Mulan’s shoulder. Then he began unwinding stories, about the deep lasting damage magic could do. Mulan thought about Aurora’s enchanted sleep and the trouble it still caused her at night. Magic always had a price.

 

  
*

 

  
Aurora was whispering with Henry again, their faces lit up with excitement. Philip was talking to Prince Charming, both at ease, whilst Snow White listened to Henry and Aurora, something soft and quiet in her expression. Was she thinking as Mulan did? That Aurora would be a good mother?

 

  
There was a warm weight on Mulan’s thigh; Neal was resting his hand there. It was a reassurance, an anchor. Philip’s touch was always considered, unless his control was unspun, then he became greedy in such an un-Philip-like way that Mulan’s own control fractured in tandem. Neal’s touch was that of someone who had lost much, who didn’t want to lose any more.

 

  
Mulan’s fingers brushed Neal’s, an understanding, a thank-you. His presence grounded her; she hoped that she provided strength for him in equal measure.

 

  
His father was probably watching them.

 

  
Henry was giving Aurora a fresh piece of gum; she thanked him and peeled it out of its waxy paper. Mulan tracked the brief appearance of Aurora’s tongue. Their princess was going to taste faintly of strawberries now

 

  
“She’s going to taste like summer and feel like warm weather,” Neal mused, his expression filled with good memories.

 

  
Mulan’s fingers gripped his firmly; the way his breathing changed made a tiny smile curl across her face. She was hit by a sense of longing for the cool stones of her family’s temple and for the well-worn smell of incense there. She had a lot to thank her ancestors for – Aurora’s strawberry-scented breath, the warmth in Philip’s eyes, Neal’s hand in hers, Henry’s nod. They were all as close to her heart as the taste of her grandmother’s tea and the sight of her father’s smile.

 

  
They were precious things, to be guarded and fought for. Mulan was more than dedicated to the task.

 

  
_-the end_


End file.
